


All the More I Know

by demeteroh



Series: Oc Game (Hobbit) [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: (like Beorn), Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Beorn’s kid, Just accept it, Nonbinary, Other, Weird, agender people dont get enough love, but like, in fact almost no one does, in fics, not everyone has a soulmate, thats how skinchangers work in this, they are agender, unless they want a gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:42:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demeteroh/pseuds/demeteroh
Summary: Kili has had that big obnoxious Mark on his back his entire life. The Mark his mother says gives him purpose, but he disagrees. That terrible Mark that controls him. He’s seen only one other with a Mark and they lived a life of misery.But then a curious skin-changer appears, happy and confident, even in the Mark that covers their back. Maybe the Mark isn’t so bad, after all.





	All the More I Know

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a very weird, medication-induced dream that I dialed down the weird for. The dream had extra limbs (the least odd thing, if you can believe it) to give you an idea.

It was easy to relax in Beorn’s house, Kili found, though the large man in question glared at them. The promise that he would not harm them, coupled with the company’s exhaustion, meant that Beorn’s house acted as a shelter, warm and safe. All of their weapons had been taken away but Kili didn’t have the energy to protest that. At least Beorn was cooking them food.

The other dwarves had managed to pull out several instruments and were playing a jolly tune, with much less meaning than most others, its purpose only for fun and dancing. Several were dancing - Fili, Nori, Bombur, and Bofur - but most were just clapping along, too tired to partake in the jaunty steps the four had decided upon. Kili had almost joined them when they heard a loud crash from outside. 

Immediately the music stopped and the dwarves were on their feet. Having grabbed whatever they could to fight with, it was an amusing sight, even if Kili couldn’t appreciate it at that moment. Fili had a hard loaf of bread in his hand, Kili noted. 

“Who put all these weapons by the door, honestly?” A voice whispered, making the dwarves look to each other in confusion. Beorn was in the kitchen, not taking any notice, so it can’t have been too much of a problem. 

The door opened, far too casually for it to be an attack. Kili lowered the fire poker he had in his hands as he saw Thorin do the same. Standing in the doorway, muttering to themself, was a tall young person who looked remarkably like Beorn. 

“Dad, there’s a huge pile of swords and axes and daggers. Don’t know if you put them there for your unsuspecting child to come and trip on, but,” they trailed off, staring at the company. It took them quite a while to notice the thirteen dwarves and a hobbit, Kili thought. “Dwarves.”

They stepped further into the house, regarding the dwarves with only slightly less confusion than they regarded them with. Kili was vaguely aware of Beorn entering the room, but the skinchangers presence was largely overshadowed by what he could see poking out of the collar of the newcomers shirt.  _No,_ he thought,  _it can’t be._

“Dwarves, da,” they repeated again, seemingly shocked into repeating themselves until someone said something. “Dwarves.”

”Yes, Oden,” Beorn said, giving a name to his child. Oden stared at the dwarves after sparring a glance at their father. “I am well aware.”

”But,” Oden said, but didn’t finish. “Dwarves.”

“You don’t like dwarves either, I take it,” Thorin said, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to look taller. It made no real difference, for Oden was just like their father. Much, much taller than dwarves. 

“Oh, on the contrary,” Oden said, still staring but attempting to be polite. “Just - well, there’s fourteen of you.”

“Thirteen, actually,” Bilbo says, walking forward until Oden can see him properly. They tilt their head slightly, sizing Bilbo up and making him very uncomfortable. “I’m a hobbit.” 

"No beard and no shoes," Oden remarked, fascination lacing their voice. "I've never met a hobbit."

"Oden," Beorn said, in what could probably be seen as an indifferent tone, yet the sheepish grin on Oden's face showed the true warning behind their name being spoken. "These are the dwarves of Thorin's Company and their hobbit. They will be staying with us for a while. Dwarves, this is my child, Oden."

"A son?" Dwalin asked, obviously noting Oden's strong build. It was Kili's understanding, too, that female humans were more slender, yet Oden did not seem to be male to him. 

"No, my child," Beorn snapped, his patience with dwarves wearing thin. He nodded with his head for Oden to follow him, but his child lingered behind to answer the partially asked question.

"Skin-changers do not view gender in the same way as ordinary folk." Normally, Kili would have been insulted to be dubbed 'ordinary folk' but it seemed fitting in that moment. Oden meant no harm by it, even if Dwalin and Thorin bristled. "We can, if we so choose, like dad, but most of us don't, or rather didn't. I imagine dad only did because he fell in love with-"

Oden was interrupted by a short cough from the kitchen. It was obvious it was Beorn, not happy with his child's account of his life. Oden smiled at them, much warmer than their father, and walked out of the room. Kili watched them go, seeing darkness pressed against the back of their white shirt.  _Maybe..._

 _"_ Don't look at them like that, Thorin," Gandalf said reproachfully. "You received Beorn better than Oden, though the latter is certainly nicer."

"They are a child," Thorin said simply, as if children did not need to be respected. 

"Far from it, actually," Gandalf told them, catching the attention of even Nori. "Oden was born back when Mirkwood was still called Greenwood."

"But that was over a thousand years ago," Bofur protested, sounding as surprised as Kili felt. Gandalf simply nodded, leaving the dwarves in their varying degrees of shock. Kili took a seat next to the fire, heavy things waying on his mind and his back. He rubbed at his neck.

"They're looking good, for a thousand," Nori says, causing everyone to chuckle in agreement. 

"Thank you." Kili jumps. He had not noticed Oden coming back into the room and it was evident the others hadn't either, from the way Nori suddenly became very embarrassed. Kili didn't blame him - Oden, though physically smaller than their father, was intimidating in looks and nature. A large mane of hair stood high on their head, partly braided, before it dropped down and feel by their shoulder blades. It was messy, yet smooth, and Kili wondered how it would feel beneath his fingers.  _Stop thinking like that,_ he thought, his back burning.

"But I am actually 1923," Oden continued. Another wave of shock fell on the dwarves. Though tall and hairy, Oden truly had a youthful face. Almost like Kili. It was obvious they were less weathered than their father, had seen fewer battles. Apart from a few flecks of mud littered across their face, Oden was practically void of impurities, it seemed to Kili. "Excuse me."

Bilbo squeaked out an apology, jumping out of Oden's way. Reaching to a shelf that Kili had not noticed due to its height, Oden pulled a large basket down and dropped it on the floor. Kili could see clothes spilling out of it, large and small alike. It struck him as odd that Oden and Beorn would have clothes suited to the size of a dwarf. 

As though they could read his mind, Oden spoke. "When I have spare time, I make them. When I have enough, I carry them to poor towns and villages and leave them on the chiefs doorstep as a gift. At least, I used to. Men and dwarves have become too wary to accept gifts from things they cannot see."

"Not a bad thing," Kili said, knowing that he would find it difficult to trust in something he couldn't see. His back grew warmer. 

"No," Oden said, their eyes piercing Kili. With a shiver, Kili returned the gaze. "But a shame nonetheless. I think it might do them some good to believe in something that is not really there."

There was a moment of silence as the dwarves stared uneasily at Oden and Oden did not notice. They pulled a large cream shirt into their hands, folding it over their arm before addressing the dwarves once again. "For your taking. Anything that fits you can have. If it does not fit and you desperately want it, I can tailor it for you. I imagine you are sick of wearing the same clothes."

There is another silence. Kili decides it is best to say something before they anger Oden, or more likely, Beorn.

"Thank you," he said, sincere. "You don't have to."

Oden smiles at him, causing a jolt to hit his spine. He does not show it. 

"It is the least I could do for such a noble quest," Oden answers, talking to them all but only looking at Kili. They make to leave, shrugging off their shirt as they go, but Bilbo's small voice stops them. 

"What is that?" the hobbit asks, immediately turning red and clapping a hand over his mouth. Kili freezes, as does Fili, and Thorin, and several of the older dwarves. It is unmistakable now that Oden's shirt hangs from their hands, revealing the dark pattern on their back. It was somewhere between geometric and soft, branches wrapping themselves around Oden's arms, their neck, and extending down below their belt. Images seemed to ripple in it, disappearing and reappearing so quickly one could never be certain of what it truly was. Parts of it looked like a bruise (like by Oden's left shoulder blade) or a burn (their right hip), or simply an ink spill (the centre of their spine). It was mesmerizing to look at but Kili couldn't bring himself to see it. His own back was now searing hot. 

"Kili..." Fili whispered, but Kili didn't look at him, instead finding his own braid fascinating. He heard Oden start to speak but couldn't bring himself to look up. 

"It is my Mark," Oden told Bilbo, not putting on the other shirt so everyone could see where the Mark looped around their midriff before fading out. "It is part of me. It should - in theory - show me my soulmate."

"What? How?" Bilbo asked, moving past his earlier embarrassment dur to the fact that Oden seemed to have no real problem with talking about it and didn’t look to be offended in any way. 

"Well, you see," Oden began, seating themself on a hay bale. "Some people have soulmates. Not many, at least not anymore, but a few. We are born with these Marks. Usually big, always different, save for the soulmate. Each pair has the same Mark. It is supposed to make it easier to find your other half."

"You don't sound sure," Ori said quietly. Oden smiled. Kili wondered how they were so comfortable talking about it. The Marks were a curse to those that had them, a restriction and a reminder of what they would never have. He knew only too well. 

"It rarely happens, perhaps because now life is more spread out," Oden explained, a finger tracing the black line that wrapped around their upper arm. "Or because races live such different lengths of time. Back in the old days, the First Age or before, everyone lived for similar lengths in similar places. But now, men only live for sixty years and elves for thousands, so often soulmates are not in the right place at the right time. Because they essentially lost their usefulness - it is easier to marry for love when you want than wait around for a soulmate who may never come, better for the longevity of a race - Marks have all but died out. 

"I have one, and I have met three others whom had one," Oden continued, now capturing even Thorin up in their account. Thorin knew as much as anyone could tell him about Marks, as did Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Fili and Kili, but it was different to hear it from someone who had lived nearly two thousand years with one. "A mortal king of Gondor, Eldacar. His was small, easy to hide, and he had to marry for the good of his kingdom, so he spent his life pretending his Mark did not exist. The second, a Sindarin elf, the only one alive now that found their soulmate, that I know of, lost her many years ago. If you meet him, you will know who he is. The Mark stretches across his face, though he now uses magic to hide it because of pain."

Oden looked happy to be telling them about Marks, something Kili had never felt when thinking about them. They made their bearers lives depressing, but Oden did not seem to mind. 

"And the last?" Bifur prompted. Oden sighed. 

"Adriel," they muttered, bitterly. "A human from Rohan. She practically went mad with longing to find her soulmate. I sometimes understand her pain - for when you have a Mark you won't ever be able to settle down with someone, lest you are like Eldacar and hide it, because no one wants to be loved by someone they know belongs to another. What was supposed to give one's life more meaning really stripped it of it. Many believe we were all born to test the waters with others instead of having things handed to us on a plate. I can't say I disagree, the freedom to love whomever and whenever seems nice, but I have long since accepted my fate.

"It is no burden to me," Oden said to Kili's surprise. "I could wait forever for my soulmate, yet I still feel whole without them. I will wait, of course, and if I do not get them on this plane then I shall see them on the other side, as one always does."

Kili couldn’t help but notice how Oden used the word get instead of meet. He could feel Fili and Thorin’s eyes burning him, along with the burning in his back. It was almost unbearable, the searing pain. He scratched viscously at his neck. 

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Oden said. Kili looked up, unaware that Oden had been looking at him. “You will only hurt yourself more.”

They stood up, their shirt forgotten on the hay. Kili felt his breath hitch as Oden got closer, showing more skin than was probably healthy in the house because of a cold breeze flying through the open window. There was a tug in his navel, caused presumably by Oden’s proximity. Reaching out a hand, Oden silently asked permission. Kili let his hair fall off his neck.

The pain disappeared immediately as Oden placed their fingers on the top of the Mark. It seemed throughout their entire time since meeting the dwarves, they had also felt that pain in their back, because Oden suddenly sighed happily. Kili reached up a hand, not really sure what he was doing, and touched Oden’s side where a tentacle of their Mark pressed into their abdomen. Another heat rose in him, this one entirely pleasent and painless. 

“I don’t suppose I have to wait anymore,” Oden said, their hand pulling Kili’s face up, before dropping to thread in his hair. Oden had sunk to the ground so that they were level with Kili whilst he was seated. Locking eyes, Kili felt more at home than he ever had before. “Unless you are going to make me?”

Kili grinned, a cheeky grin he saved for Fili, Thorin, and his mother. It was personal, that smile, fitting for Oden. There was no one closer to Kili, he knew that. “That would be amusing, but torture for me as well.”

”That it would be, my dear soulmate,” Oden said. “That it would be.”


End file.
